What the Gospel of Mark has for us this morning (Mark 6:14-29 ) is a sordid story of lust, child abuse, and gruesome murder in the first degree. Maybe Mark felt that in order for us to really appreciate the spiritual revolution in human character which Jesus was initiating, we needed a cold, hard look at how incredibly vicious Jesus' social context was. In any case, Mark portrays very bluntly just how degraded human beings can become when their technical-administrative authority exceeds the virtue of their characters.

To illustrate this important relationship between technical-administrative authority and virtue... consider this Missal that I use in the service as an example. This Missal belongs to me. I prepare it for each service, so that I don't have to juggle prayer books, and bibles, and hymnals. My name is written on the inside cover as a statement that this particular Missal is under my administrative authority. And so, I may choose to do almost whatever I like with this Missal. But what I am actually able do with it... ...and what I actually do choose to do with it.. depends completely on the content of my character. If, by opening myself to the healing grace of God's Spirit, I have cultivated a virtuous character in my life, I will be strongly inclined to only use this in ways that actually increase my love of God and neighbor... and your love of God and neighbor. But if, on the other hand, by closing myself off to divine grace, I have cultivated a vicious character in my life, I would then be inclined to use it in a more vicious way, like (for example) hitting myself or others over the head with the words it contains -- using it as a manipulative tool rather than a means of grace. The point is that although I possess the administrative authority to use this Missal as I decide best, that authority doesn't help me one bit in actually knowing and choosing what is best. For me to actually do something good with this Missal requires that I possess a power of a very different sort -- a spiritual power which inclines me to understand... and intend.... and judge.... and decide.... and act... in ways that are truly good... truly virtuous, truly Christlike. And so, in the end, it really doesn't matter if I have the nicest Missal on the block of Church St, because unless I have the character to use it wisely and compassionately, no real good comes of it.... It's a very sobering fact.... but, to paraphrase St. Paul, unless God's love is in the work, it's real value is very limited (1Cor. 13).

Technical-administrative authority is a lot easier to acquire than virtue of character is. King Herod (Antipas) had a great deal of this authority, given to him by Rome. It allowed him to do things like have people banished or imprisoned or assassinated. His character, on the other hand, was quite vicious. History's record of the choices that he made as a ruler suggests that he ruled very simply, with a view to increasing his own power and pleasure, at any cost. Not the kind of person that we would want to empower with authority in government, but the Roman Senate did want to empower him, because, even though Herod was a Jew, Rome could count on him to follow their orders above all.

A politician whose technical-administrative authority exceeds the virtue of his or her character is clearly a very dangerous politician. But St. Mark takes pains in this text to show us that this imbalance between authority and virtue of character didn't just characterize the government of Herod. Herod's family life was riddled with the same imbalance. In fact, historians suggest that for generations, the rule of the Herod dynasty was driven by their very disturbing family relationships. It’s surprising that it hasn’t become a TV series (yet)!

At the time in which this morning's Gospel text was set, the current scandal was that Herod had divorced his wife and re-married his niece, Herodias, in spite of the fact that such a marriage was incestuous according to Jewish law, and thus forbidden. But, disregarding all of that, Herod married Herodias, and the couple had a daughter, whom they named Salome. Again, Herod was a Jew. Herodias, his wife, was a Jew. Salome, their daughter, was a Jew. And John the Baptist was a Jewish religious leader, charged with a mission to prepare the way for Jesus by calling all local Jews into a baptism of repentance. So John has some jurisdiction here. John wanted to get Herod and his family into the waters of baptism. Not the Sacrament of Holy Baptism which the church offers today but a “baptism of repentance.”

As the story goes, Herod was having a birthday party for himself, and Salome, his daughter, was dancing for him. For centuries, artists have depicted this particular scene in the New Testament as if there was an inappropriate level of intimacy going on between this father and daughter. And the text certainly does suggest that Herod’s judgment was being overcome by some kind of powerful emotion that he was caught up in with respect to Salome. An emotion strong enough to lead him into acting very rashly… promising her anything that she wanted, up to half of his kingdom. This gives us another snapshot of Herod's character: if something gave him pleasure ... he quickly moved into an “anything goes” kind of mode. (Well, almost “anything goes” – he didn't offer to give Salome his entire kingdom; he wasn't forgetting to “look out for #1.”)

Behind the scenes is Herodias, Herod's wife, the mother of Salome. And Mark portrays her character as being, in a sense, the flipside of Herod's personality. Rather than doing virtually anything for pleasure, Herodias is portayed as one who will do virtually anything to avenge an offence. And she was very offended by John the Baptist's attempts to draw their family into repentance. John had challenged their family's integrity, and Herodias wanted revenge for that. She's also portrayed as less impulsive, more clever and calculated than her husband is.

So the family portrait that Mark gives us in this morning's Gospel text is of a father who will do pretty much anything to procure pleasure, a mother who will do pretty much anything to avenge disgrace, and a daughter who is functioning as little more than a pawn that the two parents are manipulating to fulfill their own warped desires. Now, did Salome herself feel that she was being exploited? We don't know. Children in such situations often come to feel that they are extra special – the apple of their Father's eye, and their mother's secret confidant. That's part of the challenge in relationships that are abusive is that they are often distorted to make their victims feel as though they are especially privileged.

If I had a nickel for every time I've heard someone say that “There ought to be a law that requires people to be competent, healthy adults before they have children,” I still wouldn't be wealthy, but I would have a lot of nickels. Of course, there could never really be such a law... because we would have to define, as a society, what a competent, healthy adult human being actually is.... It is not that hard to define gross negligence, but competence is more difficult to get agreement on. And even if we could get over that hurdle, how would we ever enforce such a law? Legislating and enforcing such things would be even more challenging because a lot of the competence that we develop as human beings – socially, emotionally, parentally, and so on – we develop “on the job” when we're actually faced with real life responsibilities. I've known more than a few highly irresponsible young men whose lives were turned around when they became fathers. Of course, there's no guarantee of that good outcome. But under the right conditions – including a whole lot of support from adults who are already healthy & competent – such good outcomes often do happen.

So, although I really do understand the sentiment when I hear people say, “there oughtta be a law...” I find it necessary in these situations to shift gears – from out of a purely legal perspective, and into the more personal, spiritual dimension of what is happening in the life of a particular family. Because the kind of law that is really at stake here is the Law of Love – the Law of Christ, as we call it in our tradition (John 15:9-13; Rom 8:1-4; Gal 5:14-6:2.) This law is not something written down in any legal textbook; it is written on our hearts by the Spirit of Christ (2 Cor 3:3, Heb 8:6-12). The Law of Love is mysterious. It makes us virtuous from the inside out. And that requires a kind of baptism quite different than the baptism of repentance which was offered by John the Baptist. It requires a genuine sacramental encounter with the Living God in Christ through the Holy Spirit in the midst of God's supportive people. It requires an invisible grace – the virtue of God's own self-giving love, embodied in a living, human community – that backs up the official, visible sign of Holy Baptism.

Earlier this Summer, in my last service in Christ Church, Glanworth, we celebrated a baptism together. And the 10-year old little brother of the baby being baptized was responsible to do one of the readings. The adult readers were responsible for the Scripture readings. But the parents picked a special poem for their young son to read.

I would like to close this morning with that poem, because I imagine that the Spirit of this poem was precisely the same Spirit that John the Baptist was hoping and praying that the lives of Herod and Herodias and their daughter, Salome, would get caught up in. It describes the Spirit of the Holy Baptism that we offer in our day:

If children live with criticism,
They learn to condemn.
If children live with hostility,
They learn to fight.
If children live with ridicule,
They learn to be shy.
If children live with shame,
They learn to feel guilty.
If children live with encouragement,
They learn confidence.
If children live with tolerance,
They learn to be patient.
If children live with praise,
They learn to appreciate.
If children live with acceptance,
They learn to love.
If children live with approval,
They learn to like themselves.
If children live with honesty,
They learn truthfulness.
If children live with security,
They learn to have faith in themselves and others.
If children live with friendliness,
They learn the world is a nice place in which to live.

Thanks be to God!